


and you haven't lost me yet.

by redhoods



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, here have some feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He blinks once, then twice, and all he can see when he closes his eyes is Luke, laughing, smiling, training, just him. It makes Jackson wrench away from Lydia with a scream that seems to startle some people out of the stupor they’d fallen into with the news of Luke’s betrayal. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one so affected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you haven't lost me yet.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [treesfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treesfall/gifts).



> prepare yourselves. amanda made me do it.

The news hits and his knees buckle, sending him crashing to the ground hard, one hand braced on the outside of the cabin to keep himself upright. Lydia is there in seconds, repeating his name over and over and hauling him up, dragging him away from the cabin, “Jackson, come on, I can’t carry you.”

He blinks once, then twice, and all he can see when he closes his eyes is Luke, laughing, smiling, training, just him. It makes Jackson wrench away from Lydia with a scream that seems to startle some people out of the stupor they’d fallen into with the news of Luke’s betrayal. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one so affected.

Lydia is back by his side in a blink, dragging him once more, and he lets her, lets her shove him up the stairs and into the Athena cabin, straight back to her bunk without paying any mind to those already in the cabin. She shushes him as she pushes him to lay down and if it were any other time, any other incident, they’d both be balking at the contact and almost intimacy of her actions.

Jackson crashes, exhausted and overwhelmed and drained, and dreams of blue eyes and scars and smirks.

\--

It’s dark when he comes to and he can hear the steady hum of people talking. Jackson manages to sit up, dropping his feet over the side of the bed, elbows braced on his knees as he drops his head down, cradling it in his hands. He shouldn’t be taking this so hard, should have expected something like this. Luke wasn’t an all talk, no action sort of person, Jackson knows that from experience.

(Jackson’s sword clatters a few feet away, prompting an angry snarl from him when the tip of Luke’s presses against his throat, and he throws an arm out, knocking the sword away from his skin, “Just because you’re better with swords, doesn’t mean you’re better at anything else.”

And Luke had laughed, long and hard and carefree, until Jackson had all but growled at him, moving to stomp by him, bashing their shoulders hard. Luke had grabbed his arm then, long fingers tight and firm, “No, but I’m still better than you at a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

Luke had paused then, like he was considering it, “Better thief,” prompting a snort from Jackson, because of course he was, “Better archer,” which they both knew wasn’t true, but Luke had moved right into his personal space and thoughts of arguing had dissipated from Jackson’s mind, “Better kisser.”

Jackson had opened his mouth to protest and Luke saw that as his opening, swooping in and stealing a kiss, how ironic, before he was gone with a wild laugh, vanishing through the trees with a challenge of a chase.)

He shakes his head of the memories and stands, determined not to let this deter him. Luke betrayed the camp, betrayed him, and that’s the end of it.

\--

He sleeps in his own bed that night, listening to the upset chatter of the other inhabitants of the Hermes cabin. He dreams of the water and a ship and wakes with a start. Lydia is there, curled towards the end of his bed, reading with her book propped up on his stomach, “It’s almost noon, Jackson,” is all she says before she stands and leaves.

The motions are easy to go through, he gets up, gets dressed, brushes his teeth, and steps outside. Things seem to be back to normal, but people give him a wide berth betraying the calm and Jackson finds himself immediately seeking out Lydia. When he sits next to her in the clearing, he doesn’t bother saying anything until her bookmark is in place and her book is next to her on the ground, “What do I do?’

(“What do I do?”

Luke looks up from where he’s sharpening one of his blades, eyebrows drawn in confusion, “What do you mean, Jacks?’

Jackson had huffed, unsure and restless, before sitting next to Luke on his bed, their arms brushing briefly and he swayed into the contact, “To get claimed, what do I do?”

And then Luke had stopped, something like anger flaring to life on his features. His fingers were tight around Jackson’s bicep, almost bruising, his other hand startling soft in contrast where it cupped over Jackson’s jaw, “You don’t do anything, Jacks, okay?” He had been so insistent that Jackson listen to him, “You shouldn’t have to do anything to be claimed. You’re right how you are and if they don’t want you, it’s their loss.”

Jackson had heard it before, had told himself it before, but Luke’s firm belief in it, unwavering blind faith in it, made him nod, “Yeah, okay,” he had muttered, ducking his head, “Okay.”

Luke had nodded, anger gone like it had never been there, had pressed his lips to Jackson’s forehead, and had gone back to his task like Jackson had never interrupted him.)

“Keep going?” And even Lydia didn’t seem sure about her answer. Jackson briefly wondered how much it was effecting her, though he would never see it, Lydia would never let anyone see it.

He huffs and nods, pressing his hand into the dirt in front of him to flatten it before drawing random Greek letters as they come to mind before rubbing his hand through it roughly to hide the fact that he had written Luke’s name.

Lydia makes a sound next to him, possibly pitying, possibly sympathetic, and lays her head on his shoulder, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

They stay like that.

\--

Lydia leaves him after a while, training to oversee or younger campers to terrorize, he doesn’t ask. He’s sprawled on his back, eyes closed against the sliver of sunlight peeking through the trees above him when someone sits next to him, radiating heat, “Danny.”

Danny hums his confirmation and Jackson cracks one eye open to watch him sprawl out on the ground as well, practically glowing in the sunlight, “Lydia’s worried about you,” he states eventually and Jackson turns on his side, facing towards Danny, shrugging one shoulder at the statement.

“A lot of people are actually,” he carries on, voice soft and soothing in a way that has never failed to lull Jackson into contentment, “Some people think you might do something stupid, go after Luke,” Danny’s eyebrows furrow, like he’s not sure what to think, “Others think you might go join him.”

Jackson sits up so fast his head spins, “Why would I do that?”

Seemingly unruffled, Danny just shrugs, “You two were always close,” he replies, “It’s not too much of a leap to think that you might help him.”

He deflates then with a resigned sigh and nod, “No, you’re right.”

Danny sits up then, fingers curling around Jackson’s bicep, “Please don’t do anything stupid, Jacks.”

(“Please don’t do anything stupid, Jacks.”

Jackson had laughed, flinging an arm around Danny’s shoulders and squeezing him close, “Me? Do something stupid? I never.”

Luke appears out of nowhere, standing on Danny’s other side and shaking his head, “He’s going to do something stupid.”

“Traitor,” Jackson had accused, poking his finger into Luke’s chest.

Danny had laughed at them, stepping out of the way just in time to avoid getting barrelled over in their play fight.)

“I won’t, Danny,” he promises softly, rubbing absently at his chest, hoping to chase away the ache.

\--

He dreams of the ship again, of the water, of docks, and wakes up twisted in his sheets and sweating. It’s still dark and the other residents of the cabin are still sleeping when Jackson shoves his feet into his shoes, grabs his bag, and slips outside. Lydia is there, of course she is, holding a bag in her hand, “Danny said you were going to do something stupid.”

Sighing, Jackson brushes by her, rubbing a hand over his head as he walks, “I’m not doing something stupid,” and they both know it’s a lie.

“I’m not going with you,” Lydia states, soft and sure, and Jackson falters in his steps, turning to look at her, “Danny and I wanted you to have this,” and presses the bag into his hand. She walks away then and he’s left staring after her, wondering why he couldn’t have just fallen in love with her. Or maybe Danny.

Slinging the bag over his chest, Jackson scuffs the toe of his shoe across the ground, debating before he turns and walks.

And walks.

And he keeps walking, because that’s really the only option he has aside from turning back, but he’s not good at that.

(Luke is warm and heavy, his breath coming in warm pants across Jackson’s collarbone, one hand bracing him by Jackson’s head, the other gripping Jackson’s thigh almost possessively, “You sure, Jacks, this is your last chance to back out.”

Jackson had almost laughed, a strangled sound escaping him as he surged up to press his lips to Luke’s, breaking it with a little gasp, “Come on, come on, come on,” and Luke had silenced him with another kiss, their sounds muffled as Luke pressed into him, warm and steady and there.)

\--

The bag has a map in it with places marked off with red x’s and one place with a green x; he figures it’s Lydia’s way of keeping him out of danger without being with him. There’s also a baggie with ambrosia, a thermos that he figures has nectar in it, a dagger, a blanket he’s seen in the Apollo cabin, and other things that he doesn’t feel like stopping to look at.

Despite being night time, the city is still alive and bustling and Jackson takes a few minutes to marvel at it, not able to remember the last time he was in the city on his own, before he’s pulling out his map and trying to decipher the directions, letting his feet carry him.

It seems like forever before the docks come into view and the ship is there, bigger and bustling with people and monsters and Jackson really doesn’t want to think about that, especially not when Luke comes into view on the deck. Part of him wants to shout out and get Luke’s attention, but part of him wants to tuck tail and run back to camp before Luke has a chance to spot him.

“Jacks!” And too late.

Jackson manages a smile, shouldering both bags and glancing up towards Luke, “Hey.”

And, Luke, Luke is grinning at him like Christmas came early, coming down the walkway bridging the dock and the boat, “It’s so good to see you,” and then he’s wrapped up in a tight hug, his face pressed into Luke’s shoulder.

(“It’s so good to see you.”

Jackson had smiled, settling himself on the edge of Luke’s bed and resisting the urge to reach out and touch the new scar that Luke had acquired in his time gone, “I thought you weren’t going to come back.”

And then Luke had dragged him down onto the bed, his back to Luke’s chest, “Of course I was going to come back,” he had replied, voice soft against the nape of Jackson’s neck, “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.”)

“You have a lot going on here,” he murmurs when Luke finally pulls back, his gaze on the ship. Luke’s hand is warm when it falls on the back of his neck, comforting even when he uses it to steer him towards the walkway and onto the ship.

Luke glances at him, briefly, “It could be yours, too, if you want.”

And Jackson...Jackson doesn’t know what to say to that. He licks his lips, because Luke is watching him again, “I just want you, Luke.”

(“I just want you, Luke,” Jackson had mumbled, face pressed into Luke’s shoulder. Luke had smelled of outside and a bit like metal. His fingers had been so tightly curled into Luke’s shirt that his knuckles were white and starting to ache in a way that felt like he had been holding a sword for hours.

Luke had pulled back, lips quirked like he was about to laugh until his eyes took in Jackson’s face, and his face had taken on a serious note, like the one he got when talking about the gods. His fingers were rough and calloused when the cupped Jackson’s cheek, tipping his head back so their eyes met, “You’ll always have me, Jacks.”)

Something flickers through Luke’s eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “You’ll always have me, Jacks,” he murmurs, voice soft, before he presses chapped lips to Jackson’s forehead.


End file.
